Madness Is Like Gravity
by Shadows and Smoke
Summary: The idea of insanity is tested when the Joker discovers a Wonderland-obsessed girl in Arkham.
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

_**I've been reading Joker fanfiction for a while now, and I've found some I really like. Their characterizations of the Joker have been amazing. But I'm yet to find an OC who doesn't make me cringe every time she speaks. There are a lot of OCs whose perfection is so overwhelming, I cannot believe why such ordinary people 'fall in love' with the Joker. So I thought I would have a try at making an OC who was not so much flawed as just interesting, not just a shadow of a character. **_

_**I'd love to have some feedback, so if you have any thoughts on this please don't hesitate to comment. I hope you enjoy it!**_

"You know doc, I've been thinking."

Dr. Ryder tried not to show his excitement. Instead, he only gazed at the man sitting across from him. For weeks the Joker had sat in that chair, always in the same orange jumpsuit, always handcuffed, always smirking and not answering the doctor's questions. And now, at last, he was offering some information voluntarily.

Dr. Ryder was writing a case study on the Joker. It would be the step up in Arkham he had been looking for.

"Go on," said the doctor, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

"I would like to go to… group _therapy_," He shook his head quickly to the side, trying to flick his hair from his eyes. Dr. Ryder jerked back at this sudden movement.

"And why would you want to do that?" The doctor asked hastily, trying to cover his blunder. Never show your fear to the patient.

But the Joker had already seen. He smirked, cocking his head to the side. Like a dog who had just seen the tennis ball, about to be thrown.

"Even if some would not like to believe it, I am human," he said, grinning. "And we are herd animals, are we not, doctor? Our desire to belong to a greater power shows personal _development_ can only take place in a group context. How else can I find belonging, acceptance… _validation_?"

"Validation for what, exactly?"

The Joker ran his tongue quickly over his lower lip. "Existence. What else?"

Dr. Ryder didn't reply. He was slightly shocked – the reason for the Joker's desire for group therapy was almost the definition of why the practice was in place. They were hardly getting anywhere with these little one-on-one sessions, this was perhaps the longest conversation they had ever had. Finally, an interest in something – and not only an interest, one in a therapeutic practice. But why?

"You'll be handcuffed, of course," Dr. Ryder said slowly. "And will be accompanied by two guards."

The Joker leaned back. "Naturally."

"Any sign of trouble, and you will leave."

He spread his palms as wide as the handcuffs allowed. "Trouble? Me? Doctor Ryder, who do you think you're _talking_ to?"

But that was the problem. Dr. Ryder had no idea.

…

Alice sat impatiently, waiting for the others to come. These sessions were the highlight of her week. Big groups, eyes on her, dear old Dr. Ryder attempting to gain control of everyone again. Everyone else who caused disturbances in group were not allowed to come back for a few weeks. But Alice had mastered the art of faultlessness.

Soon the others trickled in. Dr. Ryder, drunk with his own importance, needed to sit behind a desk while all the lowly diseased folk crowded around in a semi-circle of chairs. She hated him distantly. She couldn't summon the energy it would take to truly despise him, to work up enough hatred.

A jingling made her glance away from the doctor. Her eyes narrowed. This man had to be dangerous, no one else needed handcuffs during group. Two burly guards held each of his elbows tightly as they pushed him down into the seat next to her.

As she stared at him, she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Being so preoccupied with his security measures, she hadn't taken any notice of his face. Two scars ran grotesquely up his face, causing a permanent smile. The ends of his hair were tinged green. And his arms were thick, thick enough to hurt without trying.

She wasn't scared of this stranger, she informed herself. Only curious.

He turned his head slowly, theatrically, to meet her gaze. He winked.

She looked away. As long as he did not interrupt her performance, she did not care who he winked at or how deep his scars were.

"Let's all settle down," Dr. Ryder said, holding his hands up. Alice wanted to laugh loudly, hysterically. It was like he was talking to an elementary class. However, she did not make a noise. Such disruptions were frowned upon.

"Now," he began, slowly, as if this was a film and he had to make the moment as suspenseful as possible. "We have someone new joining us today. Let us all welcome Mr… Mr Joker."

Alice clapped along with the others. She did not like the way he continued to watch her, smiling like that. Pretending he knew anything of value about her.

"Would you like to share something about yourself?" Dr. Ryder asked. Alice was disgusted by the undisguised eagerness in the doctor's voice. People were so… _transparent_.

"Oh," the Joker said, not taking his eyes off Alice, "I'm happy to just _listen_ today, doctor."

Like a lizard, apprehension flicked its tail in her belly. A small voice told her to sit quietly, just this once. No one was supposed to watch her like that.

But she had waited a week for this.

"Well Marla," The doctor said, his disappointment all too apparent. He turned to the anorexic, sitting the closest to him. "Why don't you start – "

"I joined the Hatter for a tea party today," Alice interrupted, tilting her head back and watching the ceiling.

"Stop it Alice," Dr Ryder said harshly. "Marla was going to tell us – "

"We had to move around the table, there were so many things laid out. It's always tea time in Wonderland, so they never can do the dishes. Instead they just change places. We ate many buns, but there wasn't much butter; the March Hare had used it for the Hatter's watch. The Dormouse ate so much he simply…" She took her eyes off the ceiling, and settled them on Marla. "Exploded."

"No," Marla said, shaking her head.

"Marla, try to stay – "

"You can't explode from eating too much! I've eaten rice today, and I haven't blown up – "

"The dormouse did," Alice said dreamily, returning her gaze to the ceiling. "So then – "

But her words were drowned out, Marla had started to scream and bite at her wrists.

"Guards!" Dr Ryder called to the men beside the Joker. He hastily tried to tear Marla's hand from her mouth, blood was beginning to flow. The girl next to Marla began to wail, making crosses over her chest, chanting quicker and quicker.

"Kill her!" The girl screamed. "Kill her, before the vampires come!" She reached over Dr. Ryder and the guard, clutching at Marla's throat. "They will come if she lives!"

"And then," Alice said again, raising her voice ever so slightly, "I went to visit the caterpillar. I wanted to grow… or shrink, I cannot remember which now, so we ate the mushrooms and I went whichever direction I wanted. The mushrooms were so tasty, I think that's what the caterpillar smokes in the hookah of his, he cannot stop – "

"You have mushrooms?" A gruff voice to her right rasped. She turned slowly to meet the scabbed face of what can only be death, in the flesh.

"I don't," Alice said serenely, "The caterpillar does."

"Who is the caterpillar?" He demanded, leaning forward, eyes bulging.

"Who are you?" Alice said serenely. "That's what the caterpillar asks me, but I never have the answer…"

"Where is he!" The man growled. His arm shot up and Alice leapt to her feet to avoid his scarred hands.

He rose too, and she skipped back to avoid his desperate grabs for her. The Joker's remaining guard ran towards the man, tackling him to the floor.

Alice took another step back to avoid the feet of the two men. A hand clutched the back of her shirt and pulled her down onto a hard lap.

"Well," a voice hissed in her ear. "Aren't you _quaint_?"

He held her elbows so her arms were strapped to the sides. No one was watching, Dr. Ryder and the first guard were still trying to prevent the vampire obsessed girl from killing Marla, and the second guard was trying to keep the man to the floor.

Alice knew people watched the sessions from televisions in another room, that help would be on its way in moments. But how long were these moments to be?

"You know what I think, _Alice_?" The Joker said, bouncing her on his knee as if she was a little child. "I think you are as _mentally fit_ as anyone. So that begs the question, why are you pretending… _otherwise_?"

Alice only stared up into his glittering eyes. Nothing can be done with silence.

The door flung open and six or so aids came rushing into the room. One grabbed Alice's arm and pulled her upwards, another two gripping the Joker and yanking him up.

"I think," the Joker called to her as she was pulled out the door, "We will be having another chat very soon."

…

_Peter in the visiting room with her, across the table. His eyes are bloodshot, after all this she feels sorry for him._

"_Why did you do it?" he asks her, but she doesn't need to answer. He knows why she did it._

_He looks away, as if reality is too much. This fascinates her. This is the closest he has come to admitting what happens._

"_This is my fault, isn't it," he says quietly. This too, is not a question._

_Alice says the only thing she can think of. "Who are __**you**__? Said the caterpillar."_

"_Please, Alice, please," Peter buries his head into his hands. Alice did not mean to taunt him, though. She only meant to say no one knows who they will turn into, or who they will ruin along the way. Fault is pointless._

"_I won't come back," he stands, looks at her. He opens his mouth, reaches towards her to – what? What apology can possibly stretch to these magnitudes?_

_None, it seems. He walks away, and the nurse comes to escort her back._

…

Alice had her own room. For some reason roommates never seemed to work out. Her room had the slightly depressing lived in look about it. Paintings hung on the wall, dozens of self-portraits. Her own two bespectacled eyes staring out, mouth turned down at the corners. Alice didn't know why she continued to paint her own face, but it was all she ever really wanted to do. She left hidden meanings in the paintings, only to be decoded by her. What appeared to be a bow in her hair were really two ruby slippers, toes pointed to each other. Her eyes were made of green islands, a silver hook curled around her iris. Her dress collar was not a collar at all, but an ocean of water surrounding her neck.

One of the nurses poked his head through her open door. This was not unusual; Alice had checks every ten minutes. What was unusual, though, was when the man winked at her and tossed in a piece of folded up paper.

Alice stared at him until he left again. She slowly pulled herself from her bed, collected the piece of paper. She unfolded it and narrowed her eyes as she read the untidy scrawl.

_How are things in Wonderland?_

There was no signature, but that would have been unnecessary. She knew who it was.

The man was dangerous, this had been made clear. Famous too, the way everyone gave him sidelong glances. A small voice told her to throw the note in the trash.

But she had not listened to that voice for quite some time. And no one had ever told her she was pretending, like he did in group. How did he know?

She had a notebook, and a pencil. Journal therapy, they called it. Music therapy, art therapy, play therapy. Ther- rape – me, Alice heard the girls mutter to each other and giggle. She tore a page out, positioned the pencil over the beautiful blank paper.

She never had many words to use. Words never came out right with her. Instead, she drew a picture. Herself in the Disney version of the Alice dress, frills and aprons. Positioned beneath a tree, where the Cheshire cat lay on a branch, grinning down at her. Instead of the cat's face however, she drew The Joker's, grin stretched wide.

The same nurse was back for checks. She hastily folded the paper, tossed it over to him.

She waited, and finally he returned. She opened the note, disappointment washing over her. It appeared he had only sent the picture back. But looking closer, she saw it. Behind the tree, almost as if the Cat's tail was pointing to it, was a signpost drawn. It was shaky, obviously out of place with the rest of the picture. On one post was written in tiny block letters, '_Arkham'_. Underneath it said in even smaller letters, '_safe'_. The other signpost read '_Gotham'_. Underneath that –'_alive'_.

Alice stared at the picture. Did it mean what she thought it meant?

_How_, the small voice whispered in her head, _did he know there was meant to be a signpost in that scene?_

She lifted the pencil, and slowly drew a circle around the post which read _Gotham_.

…

Alice was able to have a shower once a day. The bathroom had five showering units, each with a door. The nurse would stand outside the door, every so often knocking to make sure she was alright.

Alice closed her eyes and pushed her face under the colder-than-desired stream of water. She ran her fingers through the short crop of blonde hair. She had cut it herself before she came to Arkham, with her mother's gold nail scissors. Close to the scalp to keep it out of the way. Now of course she wasn't allowed nail scissors. It had grown to her neck before she cajoled a nurse into doing it for her.

Knock knock. "Everything all right in there?"

"Yes, miss," Alice called back. She would love to drift off in the shower, daydream about being under a waterfall in a forest instead of a little cubicle in a mental asylum. But sacrifices had to be made, being talked to in the shower the least of them.

Alice couldn't be sure, but over the sound of running water it sounded like someone was screaming. Apparently, the nurse could hear it too.

"Stay right there, Alice," she said sharply, and Alice heard her footsteps cross the room and the door swing shut behind her. She turned off the water, shook her head from side to side to dry her hair.

The door opened and shut again. Alice hesitated.

"Hello?" She asked. She pulled her towel from the cubicle door, and wrapping in securely around her, walked out into the bathroom.

She froze. The Joker leant casually on the door, grinning down at her.

"_Hello_ there."

There was no way out. He was blocking the door, windows couldn't open in Arkham. She was in a towel, her vulnerability all too obvious to her.

He slowly walked towards her, head cocked to the side. She brought her chin up in an unconscious act of defiance.

"I think we have a good half hour," he said, bracing one hand on the cubicle behind her, "Before that nurse remembers you were left here. My… _absence_ will be noticed first, of course, but I doubt they will think to check the female showers. I have had no interest in them…_before_."

She said nothing. They stared at each other for a long moment.

"You don't know who I _am_, do you?" He suddenly asked her.

Alice hesitated, and then shook her head. She knew vaguely of who he was, though. The villain to end all villains, the Joker. He fought with Batman, Batman won, everyone was happy. So what could he want with her.

"No… no, you look _scared_. Not as scared as you _should_ be, though."

There was limited television here at the asylum. When it was on, it was mostly old reruns of _Bewitched_ or _Seinfeld_. News was not often discussed with the inmates, and Alice had never had a particular yearning to find out any more misery outside these walls. There was plenty already here.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, head to the side. He was mocking her, exaggerating sympathy. She wished he was not so close.

"Three years," she muttered.

"Whoahh," he breathed. "And why would you put on this… _insanity_ _act_ for three years?"

She glanced down. He was pulling at his sleeve. And she knew he had a knife. She didn't know how she knew, but she was suddenly certain of it. It was there in his sleeve, and he was waiting for the right time to pull it out.

It was a mistake, she knew now, to write notes with him. He wanted something now. Her Gotham (alive) was only a quick wish. She could not make it in reality, and he was here to show her.

"The Cheshire Cat told me it didn't matter where- " she began in a higher voice than usual, when suddenly the Joker's open palm came down on the side of her head.

"_Stop_ that," he sung as she jerked away. "That doesn't help, don't _talk_ to me like I'm one of _them_. You'll offend me. Do you want to do that?"

"No," She muttered, holding a hand to her head. God, he was big. This close to her he must have been two heads taller than her. She craned her neck to look at him.

"So…?" He prompted.

"I have to fit in," Alice said slowly. Her words had to be chosen carefully. "Everyone is insane here."

"Ahh, but why come here to begin with? Why not stay at home?"

She looked up at him. "Same problem."

He ran his tongue quickly over his scars. "We should fix that," he said, almost seriously. He reached out and ruffled her hair, a little too roughly.

She knew she should call out for help. But attention had been scarce recently. And this man may just be her chance to begin again.

…

_**I realise there are some Girl, Interrupted references here, that film is what comes to mind when thinking of asylums. I hope you enjoyed, new chapter will be up this week, hopefully.**_


	2. The Pool of Tears

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and added me to their alerts, it is very kind. I hope this chapter is enjoyable. **

**x**

Something was wrong. At night Alice always had her door open so the light from the hall filtered in. But everything was so black it was suffocating. For a wild moment Alice was certain she was falling down a hole and had to close her eyes tightly. She was not falling, she was still in bed.

A dim light flickered in the hall, the back-up electricity. Alice could now at least see what was going on. People rushed past her door. There was wailing, laughter.

"All patients return to their rooms, immediately! Immediate-" the voice over the loudspeaker cracked and died. Alice swung her legs over the bed. She would not wait like a good little thing.

She drew her feet up as soon as they touched the floor. The cheap lino which covered the entire hospital was perhaps an inch deep of what she hoped to be water. It was too dark to tell.

Alice placed her feet down for a second time, her nightgown hem quickly becoming drenched. Her heart pounded quickly in her chest; this was it. She slunk out of her room.

Patients rushed past her, some laughing and others with much grimmer expressions. Marla, the anorexic down the hall, grabbed Alice's shoulders. Much taller than Alice, Marla resembled something like a dying baby tree in winter. Her collar bone looked as if it could cut.

"He's escaped," she hissed at Alice. No one needed clarification of who 'he' was. "He's broken the plumbing, pipes ripped out in the bathrooms to slow people down from getting out. We have to get out of here, he'll kill us."

She released Alice, and without looking back, followed the others.

Alice couldn't leave, however. She had to find him. Where else could she go?

She began up a flight of stairs, with the vague notion she should wait in the girl's showers; he would know to look there for her. But on the landing a flicker of movement caught her eye. Dr. Ryder's door was ajar. She could see him behind his desk, hands clenched around his chair. He was talking very quickly.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The Joker stood with his back to her, one hand clutched around a very long knife. Dr. Ryder stared wildly at Alice.

"Alice! Run and find someone, quickly – "

The Joker turned around, his face splitting into a wide smile. "Alice, dear," he said softly. "Wait for me there like a _good_ girl."

He turned back to the doctor, walking around the table. Dr. Ryder stumbled backwards, but the Joker was too quick. Grabbing the man's thick neck, he pushed him into the bookcase behind them, the knife glinting in the low light as it rested on the doctor's throat.

"Well, doctorrr," he drawled, pushing the knife a little closer. Dr Ryder whimpered. "Here we are. Without the desk and your diplomas, how do you figure to _analyse_ your way out of this one?"

"Alice," Dr Ryder moaned, trying to look at her from around the Joker, "Please…"

Alice wondered dimly why she did not feel frightened. She remembered a session with the doctor, him leaning over the desk. _"You know this Wonderland does not exist? You are not the Alice in the story. That Alice is made up, a piece of fiction."_

Alice had stared back at him. He had been in the mental health profession for years. Could he not realise if a reality becomes so impossible to believe, why couldn't a fantasy world exist?

"How cheerfully he seems to grin," Alice recited quietly. "How neatly he spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws."

The doctor drew in a gasping breath, but the Joker erupted into peals of laughter.

"Isn't she just a _doll_?" The Joker cried, "The sweetest thing! As for you, doctor, I'm _disappointed_. I thought I would be hearing why I'm doing this… _Acting out_, perhaps? Punishing you for the actions of my father?"

Dr Ryder whimpered. The Joker stepped even closer to him, and Alice needed to strain to hear what he said next. "You all need to learn," he hissed, "that this is not insanity. This is clarity."

He pulled back and plunged the knife into the doctor's stomach so quickly Alice barely saw it happen. She only witnessed the doctor's eyes bulging, blood seeping onto the floor and dancing in the water. He slumped down, twitched, and made no other movement.

The Joker whistled, slowly wiping the blood from his knife onto his pant legs. He wasn't wearing his orange jumpsuit anymore; instead he donned a purple suit. He turned to Alice quickly and skipped over to her, splashing up water as he went. Her eyes quickly focused in on the knife as he twirled it though his fingertips.

He noticed. "_Baby_," he said, cupping her chin with his hand and dragging her face up so their eyes met. "Has Daddy's big knife scared you?"

What scared Alice was her apathy towards the death of Dr Ryder. She tried to feel sorrow, anything. But it had not even crossed her mind to follow the doctor's instructions and fetch help.

She hadn't so much wanted him gone, as not cared at all.

"I loved your little poem," he hissed into her ear. He needed to not only duck his head to meet her face, but slouch down and pull her face up at the same time. Alice was very small, to the extent 'suspected stunted growth' was written on her chart. "Very… _witty_," he continued. "You are an amusing little thing, that's for certain. And now, we are to play a… game. If you like, that is."

Alice didn't say anything, only gazed up at him. Perhaps he was being ironic. No one had a choice when the other had a knife that size.

"You look _surprised_, my dear," he said, his fingers loosening slightly on her jaw. "You think you have no choice? You _do_. I have no intention of taking you for my hostage. I want you to tell me you want to… _tag along_."

Alice stayed silent. He smiled down at her. "Unless, of course, you wish to stay here."

Alice had fought hard to be here. She had tricked the doctors, her family. This was the only place, she had thought, where she was able to be free of the desperate melancholia gripped her in the old life. Here, nothing was expected of her. She could say whatever she wished, she was sick. She could draw all day, or lie in bed for hours without anyone telling her not to. She had no freedom to leave, but she had freedom from the harsh realities of the world.

But she was no longer the sixteen year old who had come to Arkham. She was nineteen, older, maybe not wiser, but she felt the itch to breathe fresh air more and more. She could have, perhaps, had a 'recovery'. This would have just put her back into the care of her family, however. And that was something she had to avoid. Running away would do no good either, for even though she wanted to be free of them, she could not cause pain through her mysterious absence. This insanity, they could understand. Her disappearance, they could not.

The Joker offered a compromise. Freedom from the expectations of others, but freedom to go where she pleased. Should she be scared of this man? He had killed in front of her. This, however, only sent wild exhilaration through her rather than horror.

He was free of fear; the one thing she wanted so.

"I want to come," she said softly. His grin stretched wider.

"A life of crime for little Alice? And tell me, why do you want to follow me to the bowels of hell?"

She hesitated. "Yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder if I've changed in the night?"

She wondered for a moment if he would strike her again; it may sound if she was mocking him, but that was the only explanation she could think of. However, he merely cackled.

"You'll do nicely," he said, more to himself than her. He let go of her chin so quickly she stumbled, not realising she had been leaning into him. He swept quickly over to the other side of the room, and she hurried to keep up. His feet kicked up the water onto her nightgown.

They stood looking up at the wall. He threw an almost-brotherly arm over her shoulders, pulled her close.

"Here's the plan, little one," he muttered into her ear. "I'm going to _boost_ you up there." He gestured vaguely towards the roof, and for a second Alice stared dumbly at the ceiling. But then she realised – the vent.

"You're going to keep going down the sloped vents," he said, giving her an overly exaggerated comforting squeeze. "Until you can't go any further. Then you'll be in the boiler room. You have to shut off the water tank. Turn the lever off, but don't turn the machine off all together. I've already destroyed the pipes, hense our _wet states_. But we're going to blow good old _Arkham_," he mimed an explosion with his free hand, directly in her face, "Sky _high_."

The vent looked small. And cramped. "Can I not just walk down by the stairs?" Alice asked.

The Joker bit down on his lip, his annoyance was apparent. "Everyone is _looking_ for me, _darling_," he said slowly, with the air of someone explaining spelling to an overly emotional toddler. "And if you _bounce_ on down, they will be wanting to know why you aren't in your room or trying to _escape_ like everyone else. Are we _following_?"

"Yes," Alice said, jerking her shoulder back. He stroked her hair, softly, lovingly. "_There's_ my _brave girl,"_ he growled, and without warning grabbed her waist and pulled her over his head.

She sat on his shoulders, wobbling slightly, like a child at the fairgrounds with her father. He waved his hand in front of her face, and she realised he was holding a screwdriver.

She took it, with shaking hands began to undo the little screws holding the vent door. Excitement was fuelling her. Watching the building explode, her home for three years – it symbolized a fresh start, new beginnings. Destroy what you no longer need.

Poetic justice, perhaps.

The door came off; she dropped it to the floor. The Joker pushed her up a little more and she slipped into the cramped pipe. She had to crawl, the air was stale.

A door slammed behind her, he had walked out. She had a sudden wave of fear wash over her – she could die in this little metal cage, what if she couldn't breathe, it was if she opening out, growing bigger and bigger –

She wasn't. She took deep breaths, and kept crawling. She was the same size as she always was.

Down and down she went, every so often shouting drifted its way up the vents. It wasn't hard to crawl, she mostly slid, until-

Her head hit something very hard. Rubbing her scalp, she glanced up. A door was there, at last the end of the tunnel. This one flipped up, the screws mysteriously already taken out.

She carefully leaned out of the pipe. It was definitely the boiler room. The deserted boiler room. She tumbled none-too-gracefully out onto the hard floor.

Alice crept up to the boiler. She understood what would happen if she turned the distribution off. The water would build and build in the pipes, until they would burst. The power made her feel slightly drunk.

Turning the lever, she heard the water rush and bubble around. Years later, Alice would marvel at her resolve. She didn't even hesitate.

_Alice knows how many to take because Daddy told her. On his hospital bed, everyone quiet, her mother outside staring at the wall – 'Eighteen is too many,' he says to her, eyes glazed. 'it only makes you sick.'_

_So Alice has thirteen, not enough to die. No one else knows that though. She lay on the bathroom floor and the ceiling made patterns while Peter leans over her._

"_What have you done, what have you done," he mutters, but they both know it isn't a question of what _Alice_ has done._

_He shouts. 'Mother! Mother, please!'_

_She comes into the room, gives a gasp. She is finally, finally, looking at Alice. _

_Peter is trying to keep her awake, but it is now she can finally close her eyes. She can be free of all this._

Alice broke out into a sprint, taking the stairs as quick as she could. She was a long way down, the boiler room was underground. She could hear the boiler whistling angrily.

"You there!" It was a police officer, manning the steps. She rushed past him, but if he gave chase she could have no chance.

"The Joker!" She screamed back. "The Joker's down there!"

If it was a nurse, a doctor, they would have been suspicious. She rarely spoke about anything other than Wonderland, never about the happenings around her. But the officer did not know that. He shouted into his walkie talkie, rushed down the steps.

She heard it. The rushing of water. There were screams, it would be huge. She tried to hurry, but the noise pounded in her ears, she wouldn't make it, she was too slow. She glanced around as she forced her legs to go faster. She wasn't even sure what part of the building she was in.

The noise of the water pumped harder, it was in rhythm with her own beating heart. She was lost.

She caught sight of it, the torrent bellowing down the hall. Alice couldn't help it; she screamed. It was going to take her –

Someone grabbed her arm as the water hit. It was suddenly silent, she opened her eyes and they were underwater, it was suddenly so peaceful, and there he was, inches from her face, grinning – where had he managed to find the greasepaint?

They surfaced, Alice gasped for air. They were going to slam into the wall, but no, the water hit the front doors with such force they flew open, and Alice sailed out the front steps on the wave of her own making, the Joker's hand clenched firmly around her arm. He was laughing so hard as they hit the cement out front with a smash, and she couldn't help it – she grinned too.

They stood up, Alice somewhat shakily. She turned around. Windows were smashing as the water gushed out of it, people screamed as they were tossed storeys high down to the ground.

The Joker interlocked his fingers through her short crop of hair. He gave her a quick shake. "This is all yours," he said, watching her closely.

She stared up at Arkham. And smiled.


	3. A Caucus Race and a Long Tale

**Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review and place me on their story alerts, it means a lot.**

**This chapter does have a fair amount of back story, so please bear with me. **

Alice had not ridden in a car for years. She wound down her window, stuck her head out the side. Like a dog. The neon signs of the night flashed past her in shooting stars of light, she could smell cigarette smoke and the openness of clean air. She had never felt alive like this.

"You're like a little Labrador puppy," the Joker drawled next to her. He was driving, but not looking at the road. Instead, his whole body was turned to her. "A Labrador puppy with teeth." He bared his own.

"Where are we going?" asked Alice. Without the confines of the Asylum, Alice had lost some of her confidence. Her euphoria drained from her as she watched the Joker with unease. She was in a car with a group of strange men in the back, and another who painted his face and didn't watch the road when he was driving. She didn't even know where they were headed.

Was she really this stupid?

"I think," he said, "You are on a _need to know_ basis, my dear."

She kept silent. What had she done? Her focus had been on escaping, but now the wind ripping at her face felt all too real, the smell of greasepaint intoxicating.

They continued to drive, somewhat erratically. Where the police were, Alice didn't know – perhaps they were too busy at the Asylum. The car finally pulled up in front of an old house.

House wasn't the right word, Alice thought. Mansion. Something someone once loved, taken care of. Now boards fell off the walls and the paint flaked away. The footpath which leads up to the door had long since been covered with intertwining weeds.

The men in the back piled out. The Joker flashed her a grin and flung open the door, stumbling out. He didn't look back; she had nowhere else to go.

Inside, a damp smell consumed her. It was bright, which was surprising – she would have guessed the electricity had been cut off years ago. But no, the broken chandeliers still light up the room. Wallpaper had been torn off the walls in strips, it was like an archaeological dig, seeing all the old layers behind it.

They walked into a room so small Alice had not even noticed its door. The walls were covered in televisions. Old ones, ones she had seen in magazines from the eighties. And all seemed to feature the same woman.

The Joker fell into one of the chairs in the middle of the room, Alice did so too. He picked up the remote from the floor and pointed it at one of the televisions.

"_Gotham's newly appointed mayor presented a strong approach to our city's crime trouble today in city hall."_

The woman appeared on the screen. She was tall, and in different circumstances may have been considered beautiful. Her black hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her light blue eyes narrowed. But it was her ruby mouth, shouting with such force and determination which made Alice harden against her.

"Our stance against crime has become too lenient," The woman shouted to the crowd. "Gone are the days where murderers and rapists may bide their time in Arkham, only to escape and reoffend."

The Joker rolled his head to the side to meet Alice's glance, and gave her an exaggerated wink.

"Gone are the days where we leave our problems to the Batman!" The woman continued. "We cannot continue to let the innocent suffer! If a man decides to waste his chance at a good life by committing a felon, he will be punished harshly. And those who kill – " here she drew a deep breath, her lip turning up at the side in what could only be described as a self-satisfied smile, "Will face the same fate."

The crowd screamed their approval, pumping fists into the air. Regina Coeur lifted her arms wide, as a banner behind her fell. _"Gotham Fights Back."_

The camera continued to show Coeur with her arms held high, but the voice over covered the yells of the crowd. _"Since taking over the post of Harvey Dent, Mayor Coeur has made drastic changes to Gotham's way of life. Since placing an arrest warrant on the Batman, he has not been seen since. Already four criminals have been executed, and our Mayor shows no sign of slowing down her crusade against the violence in Gotham."_

The Joker pointed the remote at the television and it once again fell silent. He spun his chair to face Alice.

"Can you be-_lieve_ it?" He asked her. "Driving old Bat away. And she has the galls to think she can mess with me."

He looked back to the television, watching footage of Regina in a meeting, showing pie charts. "We are going to have some fun with her," he muttered.

"That's for tomorrow, though," he smiled at Alice, and slowly reached into his coat. For one wild moment she thought he had a gun, but he only pulled out a thick folder, encased in a zip lock bag.

"I thought," he said, still smiling at her, "We could have a little… show and tell."

Alice's stomach clenched. That was her file from Arkham. Her name was printed in neat little letters on the front.

_Alice Frankston_.

"I was reading it when Arkham was sinking," he continued, flipping open the front page, "And what an interesting read it is. Two siblings, I see? And what _precious_ names. I take it your parents enjoyed fairy tales."

Dorothy, Peter, Alice. In cruel twists of life, each child's destiny was the same of the character they were named after. Dorothy went home, Peter never grew up, and Alice was trapped in a world of her own making.

"Well?" he asked her.

Alice had always believed silence is the best answer. It was a practice she employed regularly at Arkham, and it had always worked. Few people were comfortable in silence, and tended to begin filling it in with their own words. But she doubted this would work with the Joker. And she did not wish to admit it to herself, but she wanted this man's approval desperately. If he wanted to hear her little story, she would give it to him.

"Dorothy and Peter," Alice said. "The twins. They were older than me."

"Ahh…" the Joker lent forward, resting his arms on his thighs. "And did they… _play nice_?"

"I was younger by five years," Alice said. "I was the baby. They played with me, but I was usually their child, or the dog – Peter was the prince, and Dorothy was the princess. Sometimes I was the knight, and while they were in the fort I had to watch for our parents."

She hesitated. _This story should not be told,_ a voice deep inside her said.

"They both were beautiful, incredibly so. Like in a fairy tale. Dorothy more so. Peter was incredibly hansome, it is undeniable. When younger he could pass for Peter Pan – this smile, all the time, so lithe. But Dorothy had more. People stopped us on the street to tell her she should model. Her hair was not blonde, it was white. Everyone fell in love with her, because she was so charming as well as all the rest. I worshipped her.

"Her and Peter were close. Closer than they should be for brother and sister, but I didn't know at the time. I was only eight or so. They were thirteen."

"Past tense…" the Joker said, a statement rather than a question.

"She died. She died, I saw it. We were out, on a family picnic. She said she wanted a walk, and I followed her. Peter had fallen asleep, and my parents were reading. We went up to the cliff, and we stood looking out at the waves crashing onto the rocks."

Alice was silent for a second. "I think she did it to save Peter. She seduced him, see. He was infatuated with her, and she knew it would never be something he would grow out of. She was his love, but he wasn't hers. And she had done that to him. She knew years from now when she would bring boys home he would watch from afar, wishing it was him. So the only way to save him was for her to die. That way he could only remember her as his own.

"But if she wanted to protect him so much, why didn't she protect me? I was so young, I loved her too. She didn't even say anything. She just stepped off the cliff."

The Joker widened his eyes theatrically. "My my," he said. "And how did our darling Peter take this?"

"It destroyed him. I think she killed him as well as herself. My parents were never the same either. They couldn't have logically blamed me for her dying – I was only eight. But I think on some level they did. They expected me to yell out when she looked as if she wanted to jump, any kind of warning. But I only watched.

"Daddy started drinking more. He would yell at me, say I was unwanted and undeserving. It should have been my Mother who protected me, but she sunk into a dark place. Some days she wouldn't get out of bed. It was Peter who protected me, who bore the brunt of Daddy's anger. He would take me into his room and lock us in, to keep me safe."

"And did he?" he asked, voice softer. Alice looked at him. His eyes were wide, unblinking, focused solely on her face. It was almost as if he knew. But it wouldn't be on her file.

"He called me Dorothy." Alice murmured. A gleam of triumph crossed the Joker's face, but as quick as it had come, it was gone again.

"It wasn't his fault," she said. "With Mother in her room and Daddy at the bar, we only had each other. And he missed her terribly. It began as a game, I would pretend I was Dorothy and we would just sit on the swings or do a puzzle. But it became more sinister… He had me wear her clothes while he touched me.

"It was worse after what Daddy did. One night he ate all the sleeping pills Mother kept. He was taken to hospital, Peter wouldn't even see him. He said he shouldn't ruin this family further and he should do it properly next time. So the next month Daddy was driving home from the bar, and he crashed into a light post. He died, that time, but they said it was an accidental death.

"So then it was only Mother, Peter and I. Mother wasn't there though, she was lost. Peter was the one who sent me off to school, helped me with homework, had dinner made for me. He was terribly lonely, though, he needed something more."

"Listen to you," the Joker sang. "Defending your _rapist_."

"He's not a rapist," she said sharply.

"Oh, but you _lie_. Taking the virginity of a little girl? Of his little sister?"

"He had no one else," she hissed. "Neither of us did. Our parents were useless."

"But you left."

Alice bit the inside of her cheek; she would not cry. "I had to," she said. "I was dying. I couldn't pretend I was her anymore, I was sixteen and still wearing Dorothy's clothes. What would it do to him when I didn't fit into them anymore? He wanted her back, and I couldn't give that to him. And I wanted my older brother back to the way he used to be, but he couldn't give me that either. And if I had done what Dorothy and Daddy did, I would destroy what was left of him. So I took the pills I knew would keep me alive, and so they took me to Arkham. I was away from home, I was finally able to be Alice instead of Dorothy. Peter knew he had hurt me, but it was easier for me to be there rather than if I had run away. He would have spent his life looking for me. He loves me, I know he does."

"If he loves you, wouldn't he call you by your actual name?"

Anger burned through her. This man knew nothing.

"It says here," the Joker continued, smirking at her creased brow. "That your mother also died. Suicide too, I see."

"Once I left, I think she realised what had happened while she was in her dark room. Her beautiful daughter killed herself, her husband the alcoholic had done the same, and her youngest child had been declared insane… I think she even knew what Peter and I had done together. She would have seen Dorothy's dresses in my room; she would have to be blind not to know. Yet she never said a word.

"She put her head in the oven. Like Sylvia Plath; I suppose the old cow liked the idea of dying like her favourite poet."

"Such resentment," the Joker sang. He stood up, grabbed the arms of Alice's chair. Lent in. "The question is," he hissed, "What are you going to do about it?"

Alice stared up at him. What was he offering? "There's nothing I can do about it. It's happened."

"Oh no no _no_, darling girl. There is always the opportunity to change the past. The question is not _how_, but _will_. How _willing_ are you to fix these wrongs?"

It was unthinkable. He was insane, surely. No one can change what has already occurred.

But oh God, his face inches from hers, mouth twisted into a grin, as if he already knew what she would say.

"I'd do anything," she said, realising only when they left her mouth the truth of these words.


	4. The Rabbit Sends In A Little Bill

**The Rabbit Sends In A Little Bill**

"Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

Alice had not even opened her eyes before she let out a scream, trying to pull away from the hand which had ensnared itself in her hair. She was pulled out from her hiding spot; under a rusted bed, and dragged to her feet.

The Joker stood in front of her, forehead creased with impatience. His face had been cleared of the greasepaint. "I think we'll need to save_ hide and seek_ for another time, don't you?" he said, turning on his heel and striding out of the room. Alice hurried to keep up, trying to wipe the spider webs off her glasses.

"You didn't give me many options," she muttered. After her recount last night, he had left her sitting in that room. Nervous of the various men wandering around the halls, she had crept into an unoccupied bedroom and had curled up pathetically underneath it. She hadn't liked how those men stared at her.

"I'm not a babysitter," he sang, marching into what seemed to be the dining room. A huge moulding table sat in the middle of the room, with a dozen or so men seated around it. Joker dropped into a chair at the head of the table and all the men became silent at once.

"You," Joker said, pointing to the man to his left, "Get up."

The man hastened to oblige, and Joker turned to give Alice a wide smile. He gestured to the now vacant chair, and its previous occupant gave her a look of loathing.

"This is our decoy," Joker said to the group at large, patting Alice on the head as if she was his pet cat. "She will be getting us into the Coeur household."

Alice would be doing nothing of the sort, but she remained silent.

"Only the daughter will be home," said the Joker. "They're expecting a landscaper at twelve, but he's not going to get there. Alice will go to the house and distract the girl, and you all will take care of the help."

He continued on, but Alice had stopped listening. On the table lay dozens of photos, some of a large, sprawling house set on the cusp of a mountain, some of Regina Coeur, and some of a girl Alice had not seen before.

She picked the one closest to her up. The girl was perhaps around the age of Alice herself. She was not particularly pretty. Her overbite showed her two front teeth resting on her lower lip, and some sort of allergy or illness had pinkened her nose. Her hair, though, was almost as blonde as Alice's. The picture was a school photo; the girl wore an expensive uniform. The caption read "Lapin Tart".

Alice looked over at the other pictures, and her heart jumped to her throat. Her eyes leapt to the Joker, but he was not paying her any attention. Instead he was leaning over a blueprint. She closed her eyes.

_It's not who you think you saw._ She told herself. _You're thinking about him, so you see him everywhere._

She opened her eyes again, and reached for the picture. It was a prom photo, a professional one. The girl, Lapin, had on a tight black dress. It made her look even paler than her school photo. A boy stood next to her in a tux and a red tie.

It was Peter.

Alice stared at him. She hadn't seen her brother for three years. He had become even better looking. He had grown his hair out, the wispy bangs just covering his eyes. He had become taller.

A spark of desperate jealousy ripped through Alice before she could subdue it. _He looked happy_.

Did the Joker know about this? She stared at him, but his interest was in the men. Had this been planned?

Suddenly all the chairs scraped back, making Alice jump. The meeting seemed to be over. She hurried to keep up with him, leaving the prom picture behind.

Outside, the Joker opened the back door to a huge van and did a sweeping gesture with his hand. "_Ladies_ first."

Alice scrambled in the back with him close behind her. As the van set off, he passed her a shirt. _Gotham Landscaping_ was emblazoned on the front.

"Put this on," he said impatiently.

She stared at the shirt and gripped the seat to stop from sliding off. The driver obviously was not concerned by speed limits. "What?"

The Joker's lip curled up into a sneer. "I thought the whole point of that little gathering was to _clue you in_."

Alice stared into his black rimmed eyes, and then it clicked. "I'm distracting the daughter."

"Lapin Tart. The step daughter, if we're being specific. She'll take you upstairs to review the gardens, the boys will do their business, and then everyone goes home happy."

"What are you doing there?"

"That'd be classified, sweetheart." The Joker ran a tongue across his lips. "Now put the shirt on."

Alice glanced around the darkened van. All the men were there too, and several were watching her with leers playing on their mouths.

"I don't want to," she murmured, heat rushing to her cheeks.

"I'm not sure if I caught that."

His voice was dangerously soft. Alice went to slide down the seat of the van, but he was too quick. Grabbing her by the upper arm, he twisted her around and yanked so she went sprawling stomach first into his lap. He grasped the top of her jeans and pulled them down swiftly, slapping her hard on her exposed bottom.

It was over in about five seconds. He pulled her jeans back up and yanked her into a standing position between his outstretched legs, keeping a firm grip on both her arms. Their faces were only inches apart.

Alice couldn't make a sound. Her mouth was slightly open, and she could feel her eyes stretched wider then they had ever been. She had just been spanked in a van full of men.

"Now," he said in a sing song voice, giving her a kind smile. "Maybe I haven't explained these rules to you yet, darling. I thought they were implied, but your little mind hasn't seemed to grasp them. Let's do a refresher course, shall we?"

Alice didn't answer. She really didn't want to look at him, but they were so close there were not many other options.

"When I want you to go distract a spoiled brat, what do we say?"

Alice wanted desperately for him to let go. She opened her mouth, closed it. She couldn't remember the question.

He opened and closed his mouth too with exaggerated wide eyes, mocking her.

"I-I s-s-say yes."

"And do we ask pointless questions?"

"No."

"And when I say put this shirt on," he continued, "What do you do?"

"P-put it o-on."

"Such a clever girl," he hissed, and released her so quickly she fell back onto the hard floor. He cackled and threw the shirt at her. She turned as quickly as she could to the wall of the van, tore off her blouse and pulled it on.

The van had stopped moving. The Joker gripped her arm again, opened up the back door and pushed her out.

"Service with a smile," he called as she picked herself up from the ground. The doors closed behind her and she considered running. But she knew they would be watching, and if she had been spanked like a little child for not wanting to put a shirt on, what would happen if she left now?

She turned and walked slowly up the stairs. The house was huge, painted yellow, white roses blowing in the wind. A tabby cat purred and rubbed against her legs.

Before Alice could even ring the doorbell, the door was flung open. "You're early," said the girl from the photograph. "Come up, I have a date to get to."

Alice followed her up the circular staircase positioned in the centre of the hall. On the walls were news clippings, framed, of Regina Coeur. A few wedding pictures dotted the place, Mayor Coeur standing with a pale man who could only be Lapin's father. Lapin herself did not feature in this display.

The two girls walked through what must have been Lapin's bedroom. It was huge. A four poster bed stood in the middle of the room, clothes everywhere. An expensive computer sat at the desk, a screensaver of Peter and Lapin smiling on a beach.

Alice's stomach churned. After the van ride, she had completely forgotten about Peter. But as she looked around, he could not be easily forgotten here. His face plastered the walls from photo frames everywhere. No inch of space was free from photos of the pair of them, only the pair of them.

Alice thought she was going to be sick.

"You coming?"

Lapin stood at her veranda, impatiently swinging the door back and forth. Alice hurried to catch up, only wanting to get out of that room.

The view was incredible. Their gardens sprawled across acres of land, huge rose bushes everywhere. Their scent filled the morning air.

"What she wants is the same basic set up," Lapin said carelessly, pulling herself up onto the protective rail, "But she wants a colour change. Lots of autumn colours, she said, no more white. She wants red flowers now."

Alice said nothing. What sort of people had the money to decide to recolour their garden beds?

"It's pretty pathetic," Lapin said, rightly reading the look of disgust on Alice's face. "But she is in love with this garden. Doesn't love it as much as herself, mind you."

Lapin let out a humourless laugh.

"She loves you too," Alice said, unsure of herself. Was this a distraction? She heard no noises coming from downstairs.

"Are you kidding?" Lapin swung dangerously back and forth on the balcony rail. "She's never loved me. She just wanted the perfect family so she could run a successful campaign._ A mother knows how to run her home, so why can't she run Gotham_. She's a joke. Shuts me up with money and a car and has me get out of her sight, excepting photo-shoots of her happy wholesome family."

Lapin let a hand go of the railing and shook for a second before she regained balance. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, and curling her feet between the rails for support, lifted the other hand to light it.

"And Father is getting worse," She said, laughter almost in her tone. "Drinks every day, never home. Can't stand a successful wife. He was in politics too, until Mom died of drugs. That put a bit of a smear on his campaign, and he thought this old cow would mend the damage. But now he's the one smiling and waving behind her."

Lapin took a long drag on her cigarette, a frown creasing her pale face. It cleared almost as soon as it had come.

"I have Peter though." She smiled at Alice. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Alice shook her head, looking away. She didn't want to hear about Peter.

"He's amazing. He's all I need, really. So sweet and kind, does anything for me. The bonus from being with an older guy, I guess. Look at the ring he gave me for my eighteenth."

She waved her hand in front of Alice's face. Alice stared at it. It was Dorothy's. Their parent's had given both Alice and her sister rings of their birthstone the Christmas before Dorothy had died.

Nothing else mattered now. Not that she was meant to be distracting this girl from whatever twisted plot the Joker had invented. Not that she was so desperate for attention she had latched onto a serial killer. Peter hadn't loved her at all. He only wanted a replacement for Dorothy. And when Alice had left, he had found another.

"What's his family like?" Alice asked innocently.

"It's sort of sad, really. It's only him and his Mom, only he lives by himself now. She's a bit off the rails. He had a sister, but she died when they were younger."

Alice clenched her fists. He had not even included her in the story.

"How's your _sex life_?"

Lapin looked up at Alice, gave a laugh. "Um," she said, "Healthy?"

"Really?" Alice asked, smiling back. "Nothing weird? No weird dress up games?"

Lapin's smile began to fade.

"No Wizard of Oz fetishes?"

Lapin's eyes grew wide. She dropped her cigarette, clenched onto the railing. "How do you know that? How could you possibly know-"

"What was his sister's name?"

"Wha-"

"His _sister's_ name. Didn't he tell you? It was Dorothy."

Lapin's mouth sagged. Her knuckles were turning white on the pole. Alice wasn't going to stop, though. This angry power was all she had, and someone was going to suffer because she had suffered for so many years.

"Wants you to wear blue checked dresses and ruby shoes? That's not a Judy Garland obsession. He and Dorothy had sex. How does that make you feel? Darling boyfriend with a past of incest?"

"You're lying…" Lapin breathed, but Alice knew she didn't believe it.

"She was so ashamed she killed herself. But he didn't care. He just made a replica out of you. That ring was hers too. Why do you think it has her name on the band?"

Lapin's eyes were red, tears were about to spill.

"Oh," Alice said, smiling. "that's right. He calls _you_ Dorothy in bed."

"No." Lapin choked. "No. He loves me. He has to. If he doesn't – "

"He loves his _sister_ – "

"If he doesn't love me," Lapin said, ignoring Alice, "Then no one does."

Lapin stared into Alice's eyes for a second. She then untangled her feet from the rails, pulled her arms around her, and lent back.

Alice darted forward, but Lapin was already falling. Alice grabbed at the railing and leaned over, just in time to see Lapin's body make contact with the hard ground some three flights below.

Alice couldn't move. She could only stare into Lapin's open, unseeing eyes.

A loud clapping made Alice spin around. There he stood, a grin stretching his face, applauding her.

"You're getting quite a count up," he said conversationally to her, leaning over to look at Lapin's body. He let out an appreciative whistle. "What happened?"

But Alice stared at him, horror pumping through her. "You did this," she said.

Joker's eyes widened theatrically. "_Me_?" He looked around the deserted balcony. "I was downstairs the _whole_ time. I couldn't possibly take your credit – "

"You knew she was dating Peter!" Alice hissed, backing away from him as quickly as she could. He legs were shaking so hard she had to grip the railing. "You knew what that would do to me! You wanted her dead!"

"You catch on," he said, a note of pride apparent in his tone. He crept closer to her, making Alice dart back quicker.

"Stay away," she snarled. "Don't come near me."

"This is a surprise." He said, laughter bubbling the corners of his speech. "I mean, last night you were positively _thrilled_ at the prospect of murdering all your loving caretakers and darling _Arkham_. And now when a silly little stranger meets a sticky end, you _baulk_?"

"You're using me."

The Joker let out such a cackle Alice wanted to cover her ears. He leant on the railing for support. "Using you?" he choked. "Using you? Darling, what are you doing here if not using me? No one does anything good for each other. It's always what I can get, what's in it for me."

Alice could not back away anymore. He stretched out, cupped the back of her neck and drew her in.

"_Bay_-be," he drawled, still laughing into her face. "We _use_ the _world_."

**Sorry I've been gone for such a long time, everyone. I hope you like the new instalment, and I'm really going to try to update sooner this time. Let me know what you think!**


	5. Advice From A Caterpillar

**Advice from a Caterpillar**

Alice squirmed away and instantly knew it was the wrong thing to do. The Joker's mouth twisted into a smirk and his eyes hardened. Alice felt a thrill of fear whip through her and wished desperately, longingly, that she was not here.

But he froze, hand stopped in mid-air towards her. He cocked his head and his eyes slid to the patio doors. Alice hardly dared to breathe. And then, suddenly, she heard it too – footsteps.

"Let's _fly_," he said, and his outstretched arm leapt to life, encompassing her waist and pulling her up so her feet no longer had contact with the floor. He placed a foot easily on the railing and hoisted them both up, wobbling dangerously. Grabbing onto the pipe nailed onto the wall next to the patio, the Joker spun them both around and they were suddenly sliding down the plumbing, landing noiselessly next to Lapin's lifeless body.

Alice looked into Lapin's unseeing eyes and for a moment thought she would be sick. Her head hurt and her eyes stung and she wished so hard she was back in her room in Arkham, with her paintings and her bed and no sharp nails digging into her arm.

But instead she had the Joker yank her along the perfect grounds, the overpowering smell of roses in the air. They had rounded the corner when they heard a scream, long and high.

"_Move_," he snarled, but Alice could hear the note of triumph in his voice. She had broken out into a sprint to keep up with his long, striding legs.

They were at the van again. He lifted her up and threw her bodily into the darkened car, then leapt in himself. The doors were closed and the engine revved, and they were gone.

Alice slumped to the wall, curling her legs up and pulling her arms around them. She watched the Joker intently. He was with the driver, and they were talking fast and low. The other men were in the van as well, but none spared her a glance.

Alice was never one for crying. As a manipulative device, perhaps. It had worked well on the doctors in Arkham. But not so much for sadness. In Alice's experience, tears only made everything that little more melancholy. So instead, she waited. He had not watched her last night. She would simply slip out when everyone was asleep, and he would never find her again.

The van was slowing. The men muttered amongst themselves, and Alice could hear something strange – a mechanical whirring.

"What lovely _gentleman_," the Joker called out, "was meant to check the engine?"

The van was silent. The Joker let out a theatrical sigh, and slipped a gun out from his pocket.

"You," he said, pointing at a man, "Fix it."

The man looked terrified, but went to the back door and flung it open. The Joker followed him, still with the gun pointed to the back of his head.

The other men ambled out, and Alice followed. They were on a busy road, but had managed to mount the kerbside. Alice wondered how long it would take for the police to be onto the Joker.

This was the moment she had been waiting for. She looked around the edge of the van. The Joker was still pointing the gun at someone she couldn't see. The other men were looking uneasily at the engine. No one was paying her any attention.

There was a zebra crossing almost opposite from Alice. They were on the other side of the van, no one would see her.

She zipped across it, heart thudding against her ribcage. On the other side of the road, she glanced back. Still nothing.

She rounded the first alleyway, then broke into a run. The petrol scented air had never smelt so good. She was free.

"My little white rabbit," a voice called from behind her, "Where might we be scampering off to?"

She didn't even look behind. She only ran as fast as she ever had in her entire life.

His footsteps thudded too loudly behind her; she wasn't fast enough. She turned around one corner, then another, then another. And then –

It was a dead end. A brick wall with red spray paint reading _hoo r u?_

Alice's mouth was open, a scream that never came. He was seconds from rounding the corner.

She looked up desperately, and there it was. A fire escape ladder, leading up to a balcony. Another ladder was there, and another – she could just keep trying windows until she could escape through the building.

She flung herself up, caught the first rail, and hurled her small frame up onto the balcony.

The footsteps were louder still. She crouched down on the ledge and watched as he stopped in the entrance, pure delight playing on the corners of his mouth.

"Now," he said in a sing song voice, "Where might we be hiding?"

Alice didn't even breathe. She only allowed her eyes to swivel over to the window a few feet away from her. It was ajar.

"You know," he said slowly, taking a few steps forward, "You're becoming a little… _difficult_, my dear. A little spoiled, I fear, in our darling Arkham. Perhaps it's time to… _fix that_."

Would he be able to hear her heart beating? Was it her imagination, or was the echo of her terror sounding from the walls around them?

"Don't get me wrong," he said casually, lifting a bin lid, glancing inside the can and kicking it out of his way, "You're valuable. Cutting you loose would be foolish. But I think the time has come for a bit more _discipline_."

A movement next to Alice made her start. She was lucky; his eyes were at the next bin along the alley. Alice let her eyes slide over to the window.

A cat sat inside the apartment, staring out at her. It pawed at the window, head cocked.

Alice looked away. _Don't meow_, she silently pleaded. _Don't make a noise, please_…

"Not coming to Daddy?," he was still talking, now at the final bin, "I'm not surprised_. I'd_ be trembling too. What happened in the van? They were only love taps."

The only noise in the darkened alley came from the traffic, seemingly miles away. Alice's mind was strangely blank. She could only watch his long fingers close, one at a time, around the final trash can lid, almost gently.

"Meow?" The noise broke the air as if it had been a scream. The cat looked out, both paws at the window. "Meow?"

The Joker turned around, and for a moment they only looked at each other. Then his mouth curled into a grin and Alice couldn't breathe.

It took him five long strides to reach the ladder, and even as Alice turned to throw herself into the apartment with the traitorous cat she knew it was too late. He was on top of her before she even had time to push the window open any further. She couldn't draw a breath.

"Shh shh shh," he crooned into her ear, grasping a handful of her short crop of hair as she wriggled frantically to avoid his full weight shoving her into the hard veranda. "Oh, princess. Are we _frightened_?"

He pulled himself up and Alice gasped for air. He flipped her over on her back as if she was a doll, and pinned her to the floor. "You should be thanking me on bended knee," he purred into her ear, covering her mouth with his hand as she cried out, "For better or worse sweetheart, this is the most _alive_ you've been in years."

A door slammed from underneath them and his hand tightened around Alice's jaw. The Joker lent between the railing to peer down, and ran his tongue over smiling lips. He pushed Alice's face down roughly to one side, so she too could see the cause of the sound.

Alice could only see the top of the man's balding head. He was staggering slightly.

The Joker's hand suddenly disappeared from Alice's mouth and instead fastened through her hair once more. He rose and pulled her violently down the ladder behind him. She cried out as she landed heavily on one of the rungs, and watched as blood began to seep.

The man had turned at the sudden noise. Alice looked up at him frantically, trying to yank away from the Joker's fast grip in her hair. In her frantic mind, it dully registered that this man looked familiar.

"Help, please!" she cried. But even as she said it, whatever half formed notion that he would do something, anything, vanished like wisps of breath on a cold morning. His bloodshot eyes focused on her dispassionately, and he swayed on the spot.

"Why don't you help me?" he asked apathetically. The scent of alcohol hit Alice like a punch, and she thought of her Father, staggering down the hall, trying not to wake them.

"He's going to kill me. Please, call someone – "

"We're all going to be killed by someone. They'll always find us, in the end."

"Mr Tart," the Joker drawled, still holding onto Alice's hair, "Going for a drive?"

Alice knew where she had seen him before. Horror rose up, even though her fear for herself. She had seen his picture laid out on the old dining room table this morning in the old mansion. This was Lapin's father. Mayor Coeur's husband.

"Carter," he corrected. "And yes, I am."

"Let's go." The Joker pulled Alice towards a green station wagon, ignoring her screams and pleas. Carter only looked at her, and when Alice looked back she was forcibly reminded of Lapin's eyes, cold and unseeing.

The Joker shoved her into the back seat. "This one is a bit of a… flight risk," he said over his shoulder to Carter, and produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. He took Alice's unwilling wrist and chained it to the passenger headrest before sliding in the car himself.

Carter slid into the driver's seat and turned to look at the Joker. "Who are you?" he asked, interest lacing his tone for the first time.

"Get ready," the Joker said smoothly, "To be saved."

Carter stared at him. "He'll kill us both," Alice hissed.

Neither men paid her any attention. "You're me, aren't you," Carter said wonderingly. "From the future."

"I'm C. Pilla Tart," The Joker said, "with nothing else to lose."

"Who is that?" Carter jerked his head to the back seat.

"You'll find out." The joker propped his feet on the dashboard. "Now let's go."

Then they were going down the narrow roads of Gotham. Alice couldn't lean back in her seat; the handcuffs prevented that. Nor could she twist her body to reach a door. She could onto lean forward and rest her head on the back of the Joker's seat. He patted her head in mock affection, as if she was a dog.

Alice passed the time by imagining him suffocate as a snake wriggled down his throat.

"I'm going to my wife's grave," Carter said. "But I guess you knew that," he added, looking comforted, "Future Carter."

"The first wife," Joker said.

"She's still my wife. I know I'm married to Regina. But you don't ever forget the first. I know after she died, everyone said I hadn't loved her. But she was everything."

"Even with the drugs," the Joker added.

"I loved her in spite of that."

The Joker let out a cackle. "Let's not lie to ourselves, Carts. It wasn't in spite of. It was because. There's nothing more endearing than total, unwavering dependence."

Carter was silent.

"And after, we married strong, fierce, _independent_ Reggie. We have to change, we didn't want our _daughter_ to look at us with accusing eyes because we know deep down that her mother died because we didn't _want_ to get _help_. She was just _so…_ alluring, calling for you, slumped on the floor. You were never so needed. But now, with Regina – "

"Stop," Carter said, barely louder than a whisper.

"Hey, it's the truth. Let's get it out on the table. So now, Regina looks after herself, she doesn't need you to do anything but stand and wave and be happy and you're free of the worry of waking up to kind her cold body beside you. But we don't want to be free. Freedom is too damn… _expensive_."

"So we drink," Carter picked up, still in that low, monotonic voice. "We drink and we take what she used to take and when we get to the place of sweet oblivion we can hear her voice still calling our name."

He turned to look at Joker. "When does it stop?"

"When you let go," he responded, his voice smooth and soothing.

Carter turned to look straight at Alice. "Watch the road," she said automatically, and cringed as a car blared its horn and swerved to avoid their drifting car.

"You're Lapin," he said.

"I'm not. I'm – "

"You hate me. You always have."

He turned back to stare at the Joker. "We're a bad person."

"But," he Joker replied, "Do we care?"

The car was silent. Alice looked out the window. Night was falling. The sky was awash with hues of gold. She wished to be out of this car.

"No," Carter finally answered. He let go of the steering wheel and turned his entire torso to face the Joker. Alice lunged towards the wheel but she was too far away, the Joker only lounged back in his seat, eyes glittering and bright. Cars screamed all around them, people rushed from the pavement to avoid the swerving car.

"Let's go see my wife," Carter whispered, and still staring at the Joker, pushed the accelerator to the floor.

Alice let out a scream, her eyes popping. They flew towards a red brick convenience store. The cartons of flowers came closer and closer, then the Joker was climbing into the back seat, pressing her down into the seat. Crashes sounded all around them, everything pressed in, the smell of smoke filled the air.

Alice welcomed the darkness filling her mind and ran towards the oblivion passing out would bring. Before she sunk into the shadows, however, she thought she heard Carter whisper "_Marilynn_."

**I'd just like to take a moment to thank everyone who has been kind enough to review. It means so much to me that people like this story, and I've had such wonderful comments about it so thank you all so much. I hope you all enjoy this latest instalment, and I will see you soon.**


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